Where Are You Christmas?

I have felt a tad like Scrooge this holiday season. Blame it on the weather, given that it was in the high seventies for much of the month. Point fingers at losing two weeks of my December to the whole wisdom teeth debacle that left me scrambling the last couple of days before Christmas to ensure that all the gifts were in order. Chalk it up to three little children who require much attention and have many needs that they can't see to on their own, causing my days to be full of all sorts of busy-ness. Perhaps the problem is simply the growing process: maybe I am just to old for all of the excitement of Christmas.

Yeah, I guess those could all be factors. But really, they played small parts. Teensy parts. Granted, the tooth thing was bigger than I want to give it credit for, because it did sorta throw a wrench in the works. But here's the thing: I did not make time for Christmas. Oh, we got the tree up. We made fudges and cookies and cakes. We read the Christmas story. We even went to Santa's Village (a story all by itself that I might get around to one of these days). On the whole, however, I did not make Christmas happen for my family.

It never occurred to me to talk up Santa Claus, therefore my kids had no idea what Santa was all about. When he showed up at my parents house, the kids were highly skeptical as to what this beefy guy in red was all about. They shied away from the Jolly Old Elf, though they both made quick work of the chocolate bars he handed to them from his sack of goodies. When asked if he wanted to shake hands with Santa, Thomas replied swiftly, 'No, thank you though. I am to shy.' Sarah Grace buried her head in my shoulder, proclaiming she needed me.

While we did make it a point to read the Christmas story to the children, I did not talk to them throughout the day about all that Christ's birth means to us. They soaked in the evening story time, and replayed the previous nights segment in their daily play with the Little People Manger scene. (I liked when Baby Jesus took the Little People school bus to the lake for a ride on the Little People Ark with Noah and Mommy to see Baby John.)

I did not deck the halls of our home. In fact, the tree was up for a week and a half before I finally got lights up on it. The kids helped me make a construction paper chain to adorn the prettiest shaped tree we have ever had, and a handful of candy canes that got tossed up, then taken down one by one for the snacking pleasure of any random person in the house. The decorations sat piled up in boxes off to the side of the tree. I did manage to exhume the Christmas books from the depths of a box and plop them on the piano bench for the kids to sort through. And I graced our windowsills with pictures and Christmas cards sent to us by friends and family. I even sent out Christmas cards.

That was it. I had all these illusions of fun and festive things to do to the house to aid in the holiday spirit, but alas, they were pipe dreams. I did not make it a priority. And there you have it, friends, in a nutshell, the truth that I realized about Christmas this year. Sprucing up the house and making things cheery and bright is not something that just happens. It takes mental do-it-ness. It takes setting aside time, despite the daily activities that must be seen to. I was so determined to make decorating a family event that I put everything off until the evening hours when Joshua was home, when life really gets hectic what with dinner preparations and eating as a family, the kids cleaning up their toys from the day, and the bedtime routine. I kept waiting for a 'silent night' rather than a normal night, thinking that decorating our little home would just happen.

It doesn't work that way. I have to come to terms with the fact that my three year old, my two year old, and my nine month old do not understand that the true meaning of Christmas is throwing tinsel and lights at all things stationary, draping greenery along any flat surface, changing out pictures and books and knick-knacks (because we have soooooo many sitting out). They don't get that the holiday spirit must be boosted with crimson and green, rich foods, music we only pull out for a month, and the hustle and bustle that makes ones head spin.

No, all they care about is that their food shows up on the table at about the right time each day, that their behinds get cleaned occasionally (but not to often, it interrupts the play, you see), and that their Mommy and Daddy are close at hand to love them and tuck them in and keep the bad things at bay.

So my kids are perfectly happy with the holiday cards scattered about and the tree that gets to live inside with lights and construction paper on it. They had a blast with opening gifts, and thanks to gaining some wisdom from last year's mega haul, were not overwhelmed with toys and new things. Stocking stuffers and three or four gifts each was plenty sufficient. And what about Santa? Well, they didn't even seem to care that he ate ALL FIFTEEN COOKIES they baked for him. In fact, they weren't at all sure they wanted him to come Christmas Eve and leave gifts for them under the tree. They conceded, stating that they did not want to see him again. Tough audience, let me tell you.

Christmas is over. We were out and about yesterday, and I was reeling at how quickly those store decorations come down and go on sale. After looking at them since August, I had become rather comforted by the sight of them. The radio station that plays 'All Christmas all the time' reverted back to 'The Best of the 70's, 80's, and Today!', leaving a bit of a whole in my heart. I love Christmas music, and was not yet tired of it. We went to eat at Atlanta Bread Company last night, though, and I was gratified to see the Christmas tree still up and jazzy Christmas crooners were still wafting from the speakers.

Yes, Christmas is over. I miss the excitement and delight that youth brings to Christmas. I failed to create that atmosphere for my children this year. It is a lesson learned, and I vow to work harder next year. I realize now that making the house festive is something that the kids do not have to be a part of yet. If it does not interest them, then it is certainly something that I can handle doing on my own. And it is certainly worth the investment of my time.

I know that Christmas is a celebration of Christ's birth and the life that He led, bringing the word Missionary to life. (Who else but God in His love and grace would have sent His Son to another WORLD! to help, to die even, for so many silly people?) I understand that Christmas is not about presents and foods, trees and lights, but about love and a Night like no other.

But the trimmings do cozy up a home and create a good kind of frenzy for the little ones. Next year, my friends, I will ensure that my children, my husband, and myself have that fun and special coziness in our house.

For this year, well, I guess it makes for easy clean up, eh?

The Morning Routine

I love lists. I love making them out, crossing things off, the wonderful neatness of it all. I have magnetic pads of paper stuck on the fridge so I can quickly jot down my grocery list, notes to the babysitter, or just have a piece of paper handy if someone needs to give me informations. You will find lists written in my day planner or stuck between the pages, forgotten in the back pockets of my jeans, crammed in the nifty dashboard hide-away of my van, and floating around in my purse.

There is a Daily Plan hanging on the side of my fridge, guiding me through what to do with each hour or half-hour increment of each day. It tends to make the day go more smoothly when we follow the routine. I am absolutely not telling you that I go by this list every day. No, in fact, last week was blown all to bits. And on Mondays, the kids and I are doing good to ever change out of our pajamas. Especially when it is so cold outside!

This morning, Thomas and Sarah Grace finished their breakfast well before Elizabeth had made much of a dent in hers. The asked to be excused, got their hands and faces cleaned up and then excitedly announced that they were going to play Hide & Seek.

There are so many thing I love about the age that Thomas and Sarah Grace are. We are never at a loss for anything. I can simply pull it out of my pocket. What? A dinosaur? Here ya go. I just happen to have one hiding in the silver ware drawer. A boat? Sit right here. Watch out for the big waves. You want a birthday cake? Well, right over there on the book shelf is a fresh one that I just finished up. A trip to the beach? Get your shovels, hop on the ottoman, and we will take a short drive.

And they merrily go along with whatever. They carry a basket around that is full of Christmas Cookies right now. Handing out triangle cookies, circle cookies, and square cookies for whatever that ails ya. They pack their bags and head off to Granny's house. They grab their keys and go to Kroger to get some more ice cream, coming home to offer me new flavors like cheese or watermelon flavored ice cream. They laugh back and forth, zig and zag, hither and tither playing in their imagination with friends or cousins that we haven't seen in weeks, weaving a wonderful day of entertainment. For them and for me.

This morning, though, they chose Hide & Seek. A game I love. But they play it special. Thomas shouted 'You count Say-Gwace, and I will go hide by the Christmas tree.' She hid her face and counted...'One, two, fwee, fouw, five, six, seben, eight, nine, ten, eweben, twelb, firteen, eighteen, nineteen, twenteeeee', and off she went, squealing with laughter as she made her way to the tree and....surprise! Thomas was there giggling and squealing. He then commaned her to go hide in the closet and he ran to the kitchen to count. After he 'found' her and the hysteria of giggles and squealing subsided a bit, she came back to the kitchen to count.

Elizabeth was somewhere between eating and laughing wildly at all the commotion going on around her. Sarah Grace began counting again and shot out of the kitchen in search of Thomas. After about half a minute, she came back into the kitchen looking slightly worried. 'Mommy, where is my Domas hiding?' He had forgotten to tell where he was going! I told Sarah Grace to look around carefully.

The doubtful look she shot at me just about did me in. She gazed at me for a minute, probably contemplating my competence in the game of Hide & Seek, turned resolutely and bellowed, 'DOMAS! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING?'

'I'm in here,' came the giggled reply. Sarah Grace ran out of the kitchen yelling, 'Say it adin, Domas!' until she found her target. They again melted into laughter and squeals.

This game continued on for nearly an hour. Suddenly, I realized it was quiet. I went into the kids rooms looking for them. No movement caught my attention. So I headed off to my room, which is supposed to be off limits for playing purposes. Nope. Door closed, nothing going on in there. The big doors were all dead-bolted, leaving no doubt that they were still inside. I called out to them, and was answered with muffled giggles. I followed the sound towards the kids rooms. I peeked in Thomas's room, but thatthere is simply no place to hide in there. So I stepped across to the girls' room, still not seeing anything. I called again, and the toys in the toy box moved a little as the giggles issued forth again.

I sat Elizabeth, who I had been toting around with me, on top of the vibrating pile. Soon, it erupted, spewing forth small children and stuffed animals. We played in the kids rooms, until about 11 am. None of which is on the Daily Plan. And now, they are still tackling each other, squealing about playing this or that, but happy. I sat down to catch my breath before I go concoct something for lunch and am thankful that I have the freedom to break from our daily routine to play silly games and tickle warm, cuddly children. Grateful, too, that I can take a nap in about two hours! I am worn out.

Guess the house chores get put off another day...

Still Not Talking

I really do try not to say things that don't need to be said. My mouth and it's capacity to take over before my brain kicks in has gotten me into more than one embarrassing situation. For many years, I have made a private New Year's resolution to shut up and think before I speak. Well, the problem has been taken care of. At least temporarily. Who knew that all I had to do was march myself in and have my wisdom teeth cut out and my mouthy self would be taken care of?

Not the way I had imagined defeating this flaw, let me tell you. But, I will take what I can get. Now if I can just continue this practice without the discomfort...

Another thing I feel I should mention. Stay away from Google Reader. It's not so much that it is all bad, but every time I pull it up I see the list of the fifty or so blogs I keep up with on it. Again, not so bad. Here is the catch. Fifty or so blogs have fifty or so writers who all post pretty regularly. When I bring up the reader and it says 117 new posts, I am overwhelmed. Granted, there are much fewer of those blogs that I know the person IRL, therefore feeling a pressing need to read what is written. Sometimes those other folks just have to wait.

Until I have my teeth jerked from my head and suddenly have a lot less energy (losing blood, can't eat, aching from the shoulders up tends to take it's toll. Oh, and the wonderful drugs that make me dizzy and sleepy) to do anything but sit with a book or a blog in front of me. One of those blogs had 57 unread posts two days ago. I have skimmed though and am now in the know of this person's life again. A person I think I would enjoy meeting, but have never met.

I love the folks on my Reader. They are all edifying blogs, some people older, a few younger, some with grown children, proving that we will all survive the toddler years and regain our sense of humor. Many who are right here in the trenches with me. We cry out together, we learn from each other, we share ideas with each other, and in our own special way, we are a community. Even if I never meet them in person, I am so glad to have the influences of several of these folks in my life.

But beware the Reader. It is a wonderful thing, except when you realize you are trying to keep up with to many blogs. There is only so much time in my normal schedule that I can devote to reading blogs. I guess for me, blog reading takes the place of television. Hmmm...

Hey, and if this post makes no sense to you, blame it on the painkillers. As I write this, they are kicking in, making me ready to float off to sweet sleep. I time it so I can take them at the kids nap times! Brilliant move on my part, dontcha think?

Ouch.

I mentioned in the apple pie post that it had been a long week. Well, folks, it was indeed a very long week. Elizabeth is cutting five teeth at once and my wisdom teeth were making me miserable. After a trip to the dentist on Friday, a loooooooong weekend, and finally a trip to the oral surgeon yesterday (with all three kids in tow!), it was decided that the teeth must go. I said great. I am free tomorrow. By the grace of God, the surgeon had an appointment open this morning, and now, I am three teeth closer to toothless.

My Daddy came in this morning to watch the kids for us as Joshua took me to the oral surgeon for a short visit. Most of which I have no recollection. Thankfully.

I have been slowly regaining feeling in my mouth over the last few hours, and it's not so nice. In fact, it hurts worse right now than it did this time yesterday. But I am looking to the future, people. In a few short weeks, this will be nothing but a memory. Probably not a favorite one, but most assuredly a memory. And praise God.

For now, though, I will ask for your prayers for a quick recovery and an few extra doses of goodness from my kids over the next few days as the worst of it passes. And most immediately, I am off to take another pain pill and doze for a bit. Later, folks!

Allie-Ooop!

My seventh grade history class was dull. But the teacher, whose name I honestly cannot remember, had that odd sense of humor that I enjoyed even as my classmates scoffed at her. Our first day of class we trickled slowly into the room. Very slowly. It was seventh period and August in Alabama, which translates to hot any way you slice it. As I recall, it had been a particularly dry summer, as well.

Upon entering the classroom, I plopped down in an uncomfortable seat and sulked as I watched others come through the door. Not a single friend from sixth grade wound up in that class. Back in those days, I was pretty much a wallflower around people I didn't know. Red-headed, freckled, tall and lanky, I was highly unsure of myself. I was mortified when the teacher strode to the front of the class and told us to please stand up and remain standing as she called our names off the class roster. My name was first, so twenty-some-odd sets of eyes shifted to me. Blissfully, I was soon joined by all of them and Mrs History Teacher sat us all down in alphabetical order. Great. Front row, first seat. That was me.

She then clicked through a laundry list of classroom rules that boiled down to just this: Sit, don't talk, do your work. Then she turned her back on the class and began writing on the chalkboard. We all started sneaking glances towards each other, mutually, but silently, agreeing that we were in for a rough end to every single day of our seventh grade careers. When Mrs Teacher cleared her throat, we snapped to attention and read what she had written on the board.

If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything.

I feel sure that she must have quoted the author of this saying, but only Abe Lincoln runs through my head. I think he was the "A house divided against itself.." guy. She then gave us a student contract to sign. Something about following the rules, being respectful to her and our classmates, giving our all, and finding meaning for ourselves in the classroom motto.

I signed, because it was expected of me to. And I am nothing, if not compliant. Or I was in those days. For my teachers. I all but sprinted for the door as the bell signaled the end of my daily sentencing. I burst outside and jogged over to the bus lines, where I cut up with people I knew and vented about my unbelievable history teacher.

The year is now a blur. I remember laughing appreciatively at her jokes, even if they leaned toward the corny. I got used to my first seat in the front row, and learned to be grateful for it, as I had plenty of room to stretch my legs in the afternoons. And I graduated from seventh grade with few memories of what took place in history. But, I did remember the class motto. And it still cycles through the ol' gray matter occasionally.

For instance, it was the first thing I thought of when I saw Elizabeth pull to a standing position for the first time last night. As I gazed at her with pride in my heart, Mrs Teacher's motto crossed through my mind. My little girl will be learning to stand soon. I hope she learns to stand strong for our Lord, so that when she falls, and she will, it will be in His strong arms.

Just Dessert

Lookie what I did... my first real home-made pie. Not half bad, if I do say so myself. A tad tart, but that was just sour apples.

Yeah, pat me on the back. It's been a rough week and this little sour apple pie just may be my cake. I will let you know if it is the icing, too.

Random Facts of Cuteness

I love how Thomas will get Lizzy down from her high chair and carry her to the living room. He slides his arms around her and grips them together under her arms, then bear hugs her all the way to the carpet. Then he very carefully lays her down, drops to his knees, and starts blowing raspberries on her belly. She gazes at him adoringly as he frees her from her confining chair and laughs hysterically as he tickles her and plays with her.

Sarah Grace is obsessed with being a Princess Ballerina. She corrected a lady at church the other day who asked if she was a dancer. She said, 'No, I'm a Bincess Bowdaweena.'

My kids love the car carts at Kroger. Green is generally their first choice, but often gets tossed over for blue. Not red. No, never red.

Thomas has a small Jesse doll from Toy Story 2. He likes to carry her around in his pocket, and goes through phases where Jesse does everything with him.

Sarah Grace, not to be outdone, has a small Happy Meal doll she has named Recipe. It cracks me up to see her cuddle the thing, which is UGLY, and croon about her favorite Recipe.

Thomas and Sarah Grace are infatuated with Elmo's goldfish, Dorothy. We often have long, drawn out conversations on what Dorothy eats, how she breathes under the water without getting water in her ears or nose, and how she talks. She is also an avid lover of music. According to Sarah Grace, her favorite song is ' Jesus Loves Me'.

Sarah Grace has inherited her Mommy's somewhat annoying habit of making songs out of anything. Or simply changing lyrics to better suit her. Her current favorite is a take off on "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam'. Insert 'Reindeer' for 'Sunbeam'. This irks Thomas to no end, and he will shout from the back seat as we drive along, 'No! SUNBEAM, Sawuh. Geeeesussssss wants me for a SUNBEAM! Not Reindeeeeeeerrrrrrr!' To further annoy him, or just to expound on her creativity, she has also been known to exchange 'Sunbeam' for 'Spaceship' anytime we pass by the Space and Rocket Center. Imagine, 'A spaceship, a spaceship, Jesus wants me for a spaceship.' It's great.

Thomas rather enjoys being a boy and having the ability to pee where ever, when ever. He came in the house a couple of weeks ago with no underwear or pants. Just shirt and shoes. (He had to have taken off the shoes to get the pants off. Why it occurred to him to put the shoes on and not that pants is beyond me) When I asked where his pants were, he promptly informed me he had pooped by the wood pile and peed on the wood pile. I realize this isn't exactly cute, but it did make me laugh.

Elizabeth prefers to play in her brother's room as compared to anywhere else in the house, except maybe the bathtub. She has started beelining towards his doorway anytime I put her down to play on the floor, which is often. But I promise you she looks up at me on her way. I wonder if she is asking, or taunting me, saying catch me if you can!!

Ashanee and Ryan (Ashley and Ryan are cousins of Joshua and the kids) sleep over quite often. They also ride the bus several times a day. The fact that they live in Birmingham and we haven't seem them in a couple of months and they have never been to our house does not put a damper on the level of their activity in our home.

Plastic Kroger bags keep appearing all over the house, filled with random toys. Sarah Grace is 'packing to Ganny's'.

And that is all for today. Hope your enjoying the sunshine!!

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

I love the movie The Sound Of Music. It makes me laugh and have all sorts of warm fuzzies. And while it is not specifically a Christmas movie, the one song in it gets radio air time during the holidays.

After I had loaded up the three kids this morning for a quick run to Kroger (like the three items I didn't have but needed to make stuff today!) we journeyed the three miles up the road to our favorite grocery store. Proximity is everything, people.

The buckling in of all the kids took no more time than usual, but still a hefty five minutes of wriggling children who do not want to be strapped down, the arguments of 'whose' music we are going to listen to (96.9 plays 'holiday favorites' for a month solid, so this is what we listen to, for a month solid), whose song is currently playing, and then the inevitable explaining of why I can't instantly replay a particular song over because I can't rewind the radio. Then, unloading, piling them all into a cart with a nifty car on the front ( I want geen, NO! I want bwoo! Not wed.) Then the shuffle through the grocery store where I let them sing very loudly 'I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas' (because I love that song and it's a great word coming from a pre-schooler's mouth) and finally to the check out where someone offers them about a thousand stickers because they are so cute.

I agree. They are cute.

Now, load 'em back in the van, another five minutes of my life lost to buckling car seat straps. And then explain why I can't make the 'Bippabodamus Song' come on again, can we just see what other Christmas songs they will play for us? We catch most of some massacre of 'Angels We Have Heard On High' (I didn't say the station only played my favorites) and my song comes on. 'These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things'. We drove around to the other end of the neighborhood so I could listen to it all the way through. It had me thinking about, well, my favorite things.

Our outing was to get a few more ingredients I needed for making sausage balls and some fudge, two of my favorite things. As I got Elizabeth out of her seat and held her close against me to shield her from the wind, I caught a whiff of sweet smelling baby, another favorite thing. The older two ran around the yard screeching at the sharp wind and giggling at the freedom to romp for a few minutes, and their giggles warmed my heart. I walked into the house, and smelled cinnamon, thanks to Barefoot's cinnamon cleaner (that I hadn't used since the night before!). At lunch, Thomas prayed for our meal, and I adore listening to him converse with our Lord. Then, as is the current custom in our house, I listened as Sarah Grace blessed our meal and plates and table and selves and again was grateful that my children desire to give thanks to our Lord for each blessing. Elizabeth grinned and laughed through out her meal taking, causing much laughter from her siblings and mommy. They went down for nap readily and without complaint, asking that I pray for them again. The house is peaceful, another love of mine, even though I love most aspects of busy children in my home as well.

And in about a two hour time span, as I looked about my home and saw books and pictures and odds and ends and happy children, I was reminded of just a handful of my favorite things. I used to think that you could only have one favorite. A certain color or number or food or song or friend. As I grow older, I am certain that you can have tons of favorites. I think I have a favorite moment of each wakeful hour of each day. Maybe several favorite moments. And they are sometimes musical or colorful or quiet or outside or inside or eating or cuddling or reading or, well, they are anything. And often, everything.

Thank you, Lord, for each of the blessings you have placed in my life. The big ones, the small ones, and all the in between ones.

IcE CrEaM!!!

While Amy and Emma were here yesterday, we gave the kids each half an ice cream sandwich. All four of them. Emma, Thomas, and Sarah Grace promptly and rather neatly ate theirs and begged for more. Amy and I were busy giggling and could barely get out our 'no more' responses to the older kids. As you will see, Elizabeth was absolutely in heaven as she ate and smeared and drolled ans squished and rubbed and smacked on her treat. I am probably guilty of overkill with these pictures, but they are so cute and so funny that I had a hard time just picking one or two. Twenty made me happy, though!














These last two pictures show where Emma and Sarah Grace helped to clean all the ice cream sandwich off of Miss Elizabeth. Such helpful little girls!